


You and I

by Blue_Night



Category: Football RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Anal Sex, Anger, Despair, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Feelings, Fight Sex, Fights, First Time Bottoming, Hopeful Ending, Inner battles, M/M, Making Love, Recovery, Self-Discovery, Self-Hatred, sex as a valve, trying to get on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-15 16:39:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14794157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Night/pseuds/Blue_Night
Summary: A couple of days have passed since that fateful night when Loris' world crushed down on him. Finding a way to go on is hard, but Emre is there to help him.Sequel toBroken.





	1. Hurting

A few days after that horrible night, Loris' feelings have changed.

He's still broken and desperate, still hurting all over, still choking when the memories rush back into the center of his consciousness – which they do all of the time, no matter what's doing - but the numbness that has been clouding his mind and paralyzing his heart has been replaced by anger and fury.

Loris doesn't even know who or where the hot ire that overcomes him in hot waves is aimed at. Mostly at himself of course, but not only. It's like an all-consuming hungry red monster, eating him alive, and Loris just doesn't know how to deal with it.

He's been a really bad company for everyone ever since that night – himself included – and the fact that the season is over and that they've all left for vacation is only making things worse. It gives him too much time to think and get desperate or angry again, his brain aching so much from all the thoughts he can neither control nor block out in any way.

He knows that a lot of people have shown him their understanding and support, and that they are still doing that, telling him that this could have happened to anybody else too, but he only sees the haters and hears the scorn and disgust that is thrown at him, thinking that nobody would ever have let their teams down like he actually did.

His family have done their best to console and support him, but he doesn't want them around, fearing the the red monster of his burning anger and the black one of his despair will get the better out of him and hurt them seriously when they suddenly raise their heads and take over control again without any warning.

The only one who didn't let himself be deterred away so far is Emre.

Of course he didn't, Loris should already know him well enough after all those years they've been playing together for the same club. Emre is not the one to run away, stubbornly keeping his ground and enduring Loris' yelling and bitching without getting mad at him like most of the people Loris knows would do.

Emre just looked at him when Loris yelled at him to fuck off and leave him alone like all the others, telling the blond goalkeeper that he'd rented a small cottage somewhere in the middle of nowhere and that he wants to spend his vacations there with Loris.

He packed two bags without listening to Loris' vehement protests, and just a couple of hours later, Loris found himself being stuck in said small cottage surrounded by fields and forests, the next bigger city being at least 50km away. Even the next hamlet must be more than 10km away judging by the time that passed until they reached this place, jolting over a sandy and partly muddy track to get here.

Loris is not in the mood for vacations at all, he isn't in the mood for anything else other than just feeling miserable and being angry, and he blames himself for not having paid better attention to where Emre was driving, because he has no fucking clue where they are and how to get away from here again. At least not without a car.

Of course Emre had taken the keys of the car and hidden them somewhere where Loris will have a hard time finding them, knowing that Loris will try to take them and leave when he so much as only thinks of turning his back on him for a moment.

His phone says _'no service'_ every time he takes it in his hand to check his accounts for more haters, disgust and scorn, and Loris is fuming when he leaves the small shower cubicle the morning after their arrival, wearing nothing than just a towel wrapped around his narrow hips, his skin and his blond hair still damp from the shower.

He hates this place, and he hates Emre and the entire world, but most of all he hates himself for what happened in that night and for his mere failed existence.

He hasn't talked to Emre ever since he's climbed out of the car the previous evening, staring at the small wooden house in disbelieving surprise that Emre had truly meant what he'd said when he was talking about spending their time _'somewhere in the middle of nowhere'_.

_“You need a place where you can lick your wounds and yell and shout without others seeing you and listening to you, Loris.”_

Emre's words from the other day are still echoing in his head when he approaches the bed where Emre is lying upon, dressed only with a pair of washed out jeans and nothing else, reading in a book he's brought with him.

“You asshole!” he snarls furiously, batting the book out of Emre's hands. The younger one stares up at him silently, his face impassive, but his eyes are slightly narrowed with the understandable annoyance he must finally start to feel at being treated the way Loris is treating him for days now. “I've made breakfast,” is all he says though, and this short sentence serves to fuel Loris' anger even more.

“I don't want breakfast! I don't want to be here, I don't want you!” he hisses, and the red monster raging inside him takes over control once more, wanting to lash out and to hurt and attack the only other living being within reach. Loris pushes Emre down onto the bed and they start to wrestle, and his vision is blurred and his mind spinning from all the hurt, anger, despair and self-hatred he's been trying to keep inside with so much effort until this moment.

Loris knows that he's unfair, that Emre doesn't deserve his anger after all he's done for him – after holding him in this night and loving him when Loris thought that he'd lost him because of two damn minutes.

The last time they've slept with each other was a few days before the final - they even have hardly kissed since this horrible and endless nightmare started in that night - and their fight soon turns into something else, into something more intimate, the heat of their fury turning into the heat of passion and desire.

Loris' damp towel slips from his hips and falls down onto the floor before the bed, and the blond goalie tears at Emre's jeans with more snarls and hisses to get them off. Emre lets him do that without objection, but he starts to fight back in earnest to win the upper hand when they are both naked, trying to turn them around and trap Loris beneath him. His mouth is hot and insistent when he claims the older one's lips in a heated kiss that is more a battle than a real kiss, using Loris' surprise to reach his goal as he pushes his tongue deep into the soft cavern of his mouth.

Loris freezes for a moment before he arches up and puts what's left of his reason and common sense to finding a way to shake the dark-haired off, kicking and boxing as he thrashes about desperately.

He's never done it. He's never allowed another man to be on top – not even Emre. They've never really talked about it. Emre never asked him, and Loris was too glad that the younger one didn't to address this topic himself. He always thought that Emre simply knows that he is not the kind of guy doing that for another man.  
He's far too hurt and angry and confused to even think about it now of all times, and Emre should really know that.

Yet, the dark-haired doesn't stop fighting, still trying to turn them around and trap Loris under his own body. His teeth scratch Loris' smooth bottom lip by accident when he has to draw back for air, but Emre just deepens their angry kiss again, swallowing Loris' snarls and growls.

Loris groans. He's not ready for this, really not. He is hard and aroused because of all his suppressed feelings, his desire for Emre and their heated fight, but he's not ready for this.

“Loris, please let me, please, don't fight, just let me...” Emre sounds as desperate as Loris feels, and Loris has a hard time understanding what the younger man is saying as choked as Emre's voice is.

He is not ready, he's not sure. He's confused and angry and afraid and he doesn't want to...., but he... loves Emre.

 

***

 

He loves the other man so damn much. He owes him.

Loris goes still and stops his thrashing and kicking and boxing, panting from the exertion of their angry make out fight. He squeezes his eyes shut when Emre eventually turns him on his back almost gently, focusing on taking deep breaths as he waits for the other one to push his legs apart and finally take what Loris has denied him for so long.

He can do this. For Emre.

It's not that he never thought about it before, that he never imagined what it would be like to feel Emre deep inside him. To not be the one on top and in charge for once. To give up control and admit his deepest desires he's hidden for so long even from himself.

He is stiff and still far too tensed, and he tries to relax while he waits, his groin pulsing with his overwhelming need to let go and find release and forgetting for a short merciful moment.

Emre is silent when he bends down to kiss him again, deep, passionate and desperate, and Loris' eyes snap open when the younger one straddles his hips instead of spreading his thighs like Loris had expected him to do.

He stares up at him, and Emre stares back down, and Loris knows what the other man is thinking even though Emre doesn't say a single word.

_'I would never do that, love. I know that you're not ready. I've always respected that – and you know that! You still don't trust me fully, do you? Why don't you? I'd never hurt you like that! I love you.'_

It's almost as if Loris could hear Emre's thoughts in his own head, and he swallows hard and closes his eyes in shame and regret for a moment.

“I'm so sorry.” He doesn't know how often he's said these words within the last days.

To his team, the fans, his family, to the world. To Emre.

He's so tired of having to say them, so tired of feeling the way he does, sorry, hurt, angry, desperate, helpless.

“I know, Lo, shsh, it's okay.” Emre kisses him again, his lips tender this time, and Loris watches him take the small package and the bottle they'll need, a visible shiver running through him when Emre's warm hand touches him where he is so hard and aching for him.

“I should...” he starts, but Emre shakes his head and moves in position, squeezing his own dark eyes shut for a moment as well when he lowers himself down on Loris' hard length with a strangled gasp. Loris pulls the air through his gritted teeth not to just lose it when Emre encloses him, so tight and hot and perfect.

They've never done it this way because Loris isn't really good at giving up control when it comes to sex, perhaps because so many things are beyond his control when it comes to his life as a professional footballer. In that night, control was taken away from him in cruelest way possible, and all he could do was just stand there and watch the world crushing down on him without any chance to avoid the horrible crash.

Ever since then he's trying to win back control over his life. Loris grits his teeth until his jaw is hurting as he tries to keep his self-control now, to take control of their desperate coupling, but Emre shakes his head again and takes his hands when Loris wants to grab his hips.

“Lo, please, let me!” he repeats, his voice raw and pleading but still so firm and confident, and Loris swallows and nods reluctantly, putting his hands on Emre's bent knees instead. The younger one is so gorgeous in his arousal, his tanned skin flushed pink and glistening with sweat, the play of his defined muscles sending more shivers of pure want through Loris' body when he starts to move.

Emre grabs Loris' hips for support and tilts his head back, lifting himself up until Loris almost slips out of his tight passage and pushing back down on his rock-hard cock in a slow and steady rhythm, his own impressive erection bouncing against his worked-out six-pack with every up and down.

Loris so wants to touch him, to feel the heavy weight of his dick in his fingers, but he keeps his hands where they are, his short nails involuntarily digging into the warm flesh of Emre's thighs when a hot wave of sheer lust shoots along his spine with the next push down of Emre's hips.

Emre is so beautiful, his lips slightly parted and his eyes closed as he savors their first time together after what feels like ages to the fullest, drawing it out until Loris wants to scream and shout to voice his feelings in the only way possible. The blond can hardly believe that this amazing man is his, that Emre is still there, still loving him, and this even though Loris has fucked everything up so thoroughly, even called him asshole only half an hour ago.

He is the only asshole here, the biggest idiot walking this earth, and he doesn't deserve Emre, but he's just so grateful that the younger one hasn't given up on him.

Up and down, up and down, the sounds of wet skin slapping against wet skin the only sounds audible next to their strangled groans and gasps, and Loris lets out a long moan when Emre refuses to move faster when he tries to spur him on.

“Em, oh Em...” Loris is sure that he will lose his mind if the dark-haired won't let him come any time soon, his entire body is on fire, burning with need and desire, his hips bucking and jerking with every new wave of hot white pleasure shooting through his groin. He's so hard inside Emre's tight channel that he feels dizzy and his toes are curling, and he wants to grab Emre's hips and make him move faster and faster, but he doesn't.

“Love you, Lo, love you so.” Emre looks down at him, his eyes only black rounds, hooded with lust under heavy lids, and Loris swears that he's never seen anything more beautiful in his life. Emre is still there, still wanting him, and Loris suddenly thinks that there might be hope left that his world hasn't ended in that night, that he will find a way to move on and start anew one day.

Finally, Emre picks up the pace and changes the angle of Loris' thrust a bit, and he takes Loris' hand – the one that has caused such a disaster in minute 51 – and wraps it around his leaking and throbbing shaft, enclosing Loris' fingers with his own to stroke himself to completion with Loris' help.

Emre is the one in control, but Loris is okay with that now, and he lets the younger one use him to find satisfaction, watching their hands move up and down on Emre's cock together. The dark-haired midfielder is so hard and hot, pulsing with his approaching orgasm and slick with the pleasure Loris' thrusts against his sweet spot have milked from him, soft velvet and hard steel in a perfect and unique combination.

The sensation of Emre's manhood twitching in his hand and Emre's hot walls clenching around his own aching dick push Loris over the edge, and the blond comes with a loud desperate shout, arching his back as he fills the rubber with several powerful spurts. His vision goes white with the force of his release, and he is only vaguely aware of warm wetness coating his hand when Emre follows him and comes hard all over their entangled fingers, his with lust clenching hole milking the last drops from Loris' softening cock.

Loris lies there with closed eyes, breathing heavily and listening to the sounds when Emre throws the used rubber into the trash bin and takes the towel Loris has lost during their fight to clean both of them up. He opens his eyes when Emre lies down beside him again, pulling him down for a soft kiss. They kiss for a while, lazy and tender kisses they haven't shared for far too long, Emre's sated and pliant body a welcome weight in Loris' arms.

Loris cards his fingers through Emre's short hair while they kiss, and the younger one returns the favor and traces with his fingertips over the lines of his tattoos, following them without having to look at them. Emre has learned his tattoos by heart a long time ago, but his caresses haven't lost the devotion and amazement they had when Emre was allowed to map the colored lines on Loris' body for the very first time.

He is relaxed, his mind pleasantly blank and calm for the first time since the final whistle, when his world broke down around him completely. They don't talk, they just kiss and stroke each other, and Loris dwells in the feelings the younger man arouses in him, in their unexpected closeness and the fact that they are finally lovers again instead of only teammates and companions united in their misery.

Loris lets Emre's love and tenderness wash over him and ease the pain still raging deep inside his heart, and he can't tell for sure who of them is more surprised when he suddenly opens his mouth and says:

“Do me, Em. I want you to.”


	2. On the Mend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loris experiences his first time bottoming.

There is a moment of stunned silence.

Emre slowly raises his head to glance down at him, and Loris meets his eyes with much more certainty in his own gaze than he's actually feeling.

“You don't have to do this for me, Lo. I'm fine with how things are between us,” Emre says after a minute, and the blond can see that Emre is serious about this and really means it.

He swallows, and the insecurity that makes his heart beat faster vanishes when he sees the love in Emre's beautiful eyes. “I know, Em. But I really want you to fuck me,” he replies, sensing clearly that he will never be able to repeat his offer again if Emre won't take up on it – _now_.

Loris can't even tell why it is so important to him, why he wants it now of all times, but maybe he simply needs to learn to give up control to win back control over his life – if this makes any sense in any way at all.

Something in his gaze must convince the younger man that Loris isn't lying and only offering himself to Emre because he thinks that he finally has to return the favor, because the dark-haired just nods and kisses him again, hard and bruising, thrusting with his tongue deep into Loris' mouth. The prospect of being on top for the first time makes the other man hard again within a few seconds, his new desire for Loris nudging his thigh. Loris can't blame him for his reaction. He believes Emre when he says that he doesn't expect him to bottom for him, but he's a young man and surely has secretly longed for being on top when they do it at least once in a while.

Emre fumbles for the bottle without breaking their deep tongue kiss, and it's Loris who opens his legs for him instead of waiting for the younger one to push them apart, a little bit hesitantly but willingly. He can't hide the tiny wince when Emre's slick finger touches him where he has never been touched before, the lube so cool against his warm flesh at first, but quickly warming up under the gentle stroking.

The sensation of Emre's finger rubbing tender circles around his tight entrance is unfamiliar but not unwelcome, and he's much more sensitive to being caressed there than he'd thought he would be. Emre takes his time and doesn't try to push in, just strokes over the rim again and again until Loris' hole is quivering and a low moan escapes his swollen lips.

Emre takes the sound as an encouragement to add a little more pressure to his caresses, and the steady circling together with the younger man's erection poking against his hipbone have the desired effect, making Loris' cock grow back to full hardness as well.

The dark-haired midfielder hums contentedly when he feels the older one loosening up a bit, eventually pushing in with the tip of his finger. He doesn't move, just waits patiently for Loris to adjust to the gentle intrusion, distracting him with another deep and passionate kiss.

Loris moans again, unable to keep the sounds of lust inside. He hadn't expected to enjoy this as much as he actually does, and he realizes with astonishment that his thoughts have finally stopped circling around minute 51 and minute 83 like they've done it in every waking minute over the past days.

He knows that the memory will come back again soon enough, but for now he's just grateful that it has become just a vague and distant shadow in the back of his mind, too distant and vague to haunt him like it has haunted him ever since he broke down before his net after the final whistle, lying there alone and blamed by the entire world.

The vague discomfort and the slight burn of having Emre's finger where it has never been beforehand allows him to take his mind off his terrible failure at last, and he gratefully focuses on the clever digit when the younger man starts moving it, pushing in a little bit deeper and pulling back in a slow and steady rhythm. He mirrors the movements of his finger with his tongue, and Loris instinctively spreads his legs further apart wit the first wave of lust surging through his groin. He has wrapped his arms around Emre's back without noticing, his short nails digging hard into the younger one's shoulders.

Emre doesn't seem to mind that Loris leaves scratches on his skin because he really needs to have something to hold on to, he just keeps kissing him and moving his finger back and forth until even the shadow of the memory has faded and nothing else exists any longer than this rather small and unobtrusive bedroom in a cottage somewhere in the middle of nowhere, his world shrinking to the bed he lies in, Emre's arms around him holding him close and his lips upon his own.

It feels so good and Loris moans louder, Emre's pleased chuckle as he drinks his moans and gasps from his lips tickling in his mouth. Loris moans again, just to make the wonderful man in his arms chuckle once more. He's addicted to Emre's beautiful laughter, he could happily drown in this sound, forgetting the cruel world outside and what happened when he ruined his career and the life he'd known and which he'd taken for granted with the arrogance of his youth within two short minutes.

He feels so hot where Emre is moving inside him, his walls clenching around the curious and tender intruder, and a whine of protest escapes his throat when Emre pulls his finger out, leaving him empty and aching for something he can't really explain.

“Hush, it's fine,” Emre soothes him tenderly, circling his sensitive hole with two fingers now. Loris bucks his hips to make him push in, and the dark-haired kisses him hard and ardently as he obeys, massaging Loris' tight passage with two digits to prepare him for his much bigger cock. The burn and the stretch are stronger than they were when Emre used only one finger, but the lust Loris feels is more intense as well, and he braces his feet against the mattress to push back and meet Emre's thrusts with newly gained confidence.

Loris muses briefly if Emre feels the same way as he feels now when he prepares him, but the thought vanishes when the younger man brushes over a small spot deep inside him all of a sudden, pulling a startled cry from his blond boyfriend.

“Oh, woah!” Loris croaks out in between the heavy shudders wrecking him, and Emre raises his head to look down at him with glittering eyes, a breathless smile curling at his soft lips. “Ah, here we go, you like that, don't you, love?” he purrs, and Loris thinks that Emre looks like a beautiful, sleek big cat, a fierce predator that has hunted down his prey and wants to get his rightful price now.

“Fuck, yes, do that again!” Loris demands, his head swimming with raw desire and need. Emre grins very smugly. “Oh, I will, don't you doubt that.”

The next minutes pass in a hazed blur with Emre stroking over this special spot again and again until Loris is a shaking and trembling mess in his arms, his incoherent pleas for more pulling ardent growls from the younger one. Emre's erection is leaking against Loris' thigh, throbbing with his unfulfilled desire for him, and Loris' rock-hard dick twitches with every hit against the bundle of nerves inside him.

The blond goalkeeper had of course known about this special spot, and Emre's reactions when he pleasured him this way had proved to him that being stimulated there must be very pleasurable, but experiencing it himself for the first time is something entirely different, and Loris asks himself why he's waited so long for this. He'd feared that he would feel less of a man if he allowed himself to be on the receiving end for once, but the opposite is true, and Emre's heated and passionate kisses and his ardent looks assure him that Emre doesn't find him less attractive or less male just because he has finally his fingers inside Loris either.

“Please, don't stop, oh, please don't stop!” Loris hears himself beg almost brokenly, a long moan following the last word, and Emre growls and steals the last breath he's left with another bruising kiss.

Heat coils in every cell of Loris' body, he's so hard that it is really maddening, and he wants to touch himself so badly, but his hands refuse to loosen their tight grip around Emre's shoulders. All he can do is move his hips urgently when he feels himself getting close – and this even without being touched on his aching cock. But Emre pulls his fingers out before he falls over the edge, coaxing mewling and whining noises from Loris he'd feel embarrassed about if he had enough reason left to care about how desperate and pleading he sounds about wanting Emre's fingers back in his pulsing channel.

“Shshsh, I give you what you need, Lo. I'll make you feel good, babe, so, so good,” Emre murmurs against his lips, the rustling sounds of the small package being ripped open distracting Loris from his need for a moment. Emre is so big and hard, how can he fuck him without tearing him apart anyway?

Loris tenses up at the thought, but Emre's lips are back on his mouth before he can panic, and the heavy weight of Emre's warm and damp body when he makes himself comfortable between Loris' trembling legs feels too good to push him away.

Loris actually hadn't thought about which position Emre would prefer for his first time topping, but he's not really surprised that Emre wants to take him face to face. The younger man likes it when Loris takes him from behind or fucks him hard with Emre's long legs draped over his shoulders, but it's pretty obvious that he has no intention to just 'fuck' or 'do' Loris like the blond had asked him to do after their first round.

No, Emre wants to make love to him, to hold him tight and kiss him while he takes Loris' virginity.

Loris is torn between wanting to tell him that he's a fucking man and doesn't want to be treated as if he was a fragile flower and feeling grateful that Emre is not just ramming himself into him, lying stiff and still underneath the younger man, unsure what to do.

Emre's is nudging his needy hole with the engorged head of his throbbing manhood, but he doesn't push in, just snakes his hand between their sweaty bodies to take himself in hand and stroke Loris' sensitive entrance with the tip of his cock like he's done it with his finger shortly ago.

It is even better than having Emre's finger stroking him like that was, and hot lust is pooling at the end of Loris' spine when Emre massages him with more pressure. He moans and gasps out, shuddering with every finished circle, and he tries to arch into the touch to make Emre push into him with his dick. Emre's tongue buried deep in his mouth doesn't leave him any chance to talk and demand more, and he fears that he will go crazy if Emre keeps torturing him like that for much longer.

“Please, I need, fuck, Em, just...” His voice is muffled and his breathless orders keep getting swallowed, his mind spinning with the overwhelming need to be filled. “Em, please...” he's almost sobbing now, and the dark-haired soothes him with tender hums as he slowly starts to push into Loris' hot passage, carefully inch by inch.

He pulls a sharp hiss from the older one when his hard cock breaches the still so tight ring muscle, but Loris welcomes the short pain and just digs his nails into Emre's shoulders again as he waits for the sharp ache to fade and turn into pleasure.

He'd felt so empty and lonely, so desperate and disgusted by himself, but Emre's passion and tenderness ease the pain that is still tearing at his heart and choking him when the memory of that horrible night comes back, and Loris lets his love wash over him, his body relaxing more and more with every new inch Emre claims him as his new and rightful territory.

They lie still for a while when the younger man is finally buried to the hilt in Loris' tight passage, pulsing slightly against Loris' hot walls. It still burns a bit, and Loris feels so full and stretched to his limits, but it is a good feeling.

“Love you, babe, love you so.” Emre's voice is hoarse with love and emotion, and Loris pulls his head down until their foreheads are touching, their lips only millimeters apart. Their faces are too close to look each other in the eyes, but Loris doesn't need to see the expression in Emre's dark gaze, he just needs to feel his warm breath caressing his stubbly cheeks and Emre's strong arms holding him to know that Emre feels the same way as he does – humble and blessed, amazed and happy, burning with desire and love.

“Love you too, Em. I need you, please don't leave me,” Loris chokes out, and the younger man pulls him tight, his warmth enclosing Loris like a protecting shield. “I won't, Lo. No matter where our paths will lead us, I'll always be with you,” he promises, and Loris believes him.

They start to move when the tension becomes too much, Emre's hips rolling against his own in a gentle rhythm as the younger man makes love to him, thrusting into him over and over again until Loris feels like flying. His neglected cock is trapped between their bodies, rubbing against Emre's worked-out abs with every move they make, growing harder in the search for friction, leaking milky droplets of pleasure against Emre's smooth skin. His walls clench and spasm around the impressive length pushing into him with wanton abandon, and Emre's tongue caressing the insides of his cheeks adds to all the sensations battering his nerves.

Loris feels hot and full and like bursting any second, but most of all he feels desired and loved, cherished and wanted, and he melts against Emre's broad frame and meets his thrusts with the same need and passion the younger one possesses him with, their groans and moans filling the fragrant air of their bedroom.

The flames of his lust and pleasure are licking higher and higher, curling around his spine like hot tendrils, and Loris lifts his butt from the mattress and wraps his legs around Emre's hips to feel him deeper and deeper, shuddering violently when Emre brushes with his hard cock over his prostate for the first time.

“Yes, yes, yesss!” Loris shouts, and Emre growls and changes his angle until he's hitting Loris' sweet spot with every thrust, making him see stars before his closed eyelids.

The blond goalkeeper squeezed his eyes shut, groaning into Emre's mouth. He needs to come, he needs to come more than he's ever needed anything in his life, and his entire body is shaking with his need for release. Whimpers and mewls of raw need escape him, but he doesn't care, all he cares about is the need burning in every cell of his body.

The dark-haired draws back from his tingling lips only when the need for air forces him to do so, and he manages to push his hand between their bodies and wrap it around Loris' hard shaft. He doesn't even need to stroke him, the gentle squeeze of his fingers and a tender thumb caressing the wet tip of his painfully hard cock are enough to make the blond explode wit the next powerful hit against his prostate.

Loris' world explodes with him, hot white pleasure erupting from his shooting cock when he comes again and again, wave after wave of ecstasy surging through him. Emre rides and kisses him through his high until Loris is completely spent and has nothing more to give, resting his cheek against Loris' damp face while the blond recovers from his intensive climax.

Loris listens to his own breathing as it slowly clams down, his walls clenching around Emre's still hard cock with the shock waves of the aftermath coursing through him. “What about you?” he wants to know, fearing that he has disappointed the younger one because he couldn't hold back for longer.

Emre lifts his head from his shoulder and smiles down at him, stroking his face with something akin to rapt devotion. “I wanted to enjoy you and focus on your pleasure, Lo. You can do the same now.”

He holds Loris' gaze when he starts moving again, careful not to overstimulate Loris after his forceful release. Loris stares up at him, drinking in the sight of Emre's with lust and desire flushed features. The younger one is so beautiful in his arousal, so breathtakingly beautiful. Loris is sure that he will never get enough of the wonderful view, of how the man he loves so much looks like when he's chasing his own height of satisfaction. He moves his hands from Emre's shoulders down to his butt to urge him on, craving to watch and feel the younger man fall apart in his arms.

He craves for Emre to fill him with his hot claim, but this has to wait for another time, the thin layer of latex between them keeping Emre from doing so. Maybe next time, because Loris knows for sure that there will be a next time with Emre making love to him. He's so proud that he is the one making the dark-haired midfielder look like this and feel this way, and he's so grateful that he is still capable of other emotions than only feeling sorrow, regret and self-loathing. That there is at least one human being not looking at him with pity, scorn, hate or anger, but with love and approval.

Emre moves faster when Loris encourages him with his fingers pressing into his butt cheeks, his eyes black with his forceful desire for the older man lying beneath him. Loris admires the play of the defined muscles as Emre moves above him, thrusting deep into his secret core. Emre's tanned skin glistens with the sweat of his arousal, and he doesn't try to hide his emotions from Loris, showing his lust and desire openly.

“Love you...” Loris whispers, and Emre comes with Loris' name on his lips, shuddering through his own forceful release as he fills the rubber with his seed. He slumps down on Loris when it is over, and the blond holds him tight and buries his nose in the warm crook between Emre's neck and his shoulder, inhaling deeply his wonderful scent.

He winces when Emre's soft cock slips out of him and the younger man moves to throw the used rubber into the trash bin again and clean them up for a second time, snuggling close against Loris' side afterwards. Loris can feel his eyes upon his face, and he turns his head to look at the younger one. He feels naked and vulnerable after his first time and giving up control over their sex, but in another way than he felt after the final whistle, and Emre's tender gaze assures him that there is nothing he needs to be afraid of.

He's not ready to talk about his feelings though, not yet, but he thinks that he will finally be ready in a couple of days, and he realizes that Emre did the right thing when he brought them here. He needs a place where he can think without distraction and the temptation to check his phone every few minutes, and he needs time to come to terms with that night and his own failure. But most of all he needs Emre walking this path together with him.

Loris doesn't know whether or not they will still play for the same club when the next season begins, and he thinks that it is not likely that they will do that, but he knows for sure that they will still be friends and love each other, no matter where the long and winding rocky road real life actually is will lead them.

With Emre by his side Loris will come out of the mess his life is stronger than before, and this is all that counts.

The younger one nudges his side playfully, making a pout as he winks at him with his right eye. “You've ruined my breakfast surprise for you. Everything's cold now! You will eat the eggs and the toast without complaining, do you hear me?” Emre says, and Loris rolls his eyes and pulls him down to kiss the pout from his lips.

“I'm sure that they will be delicious, it's you who's made them for me, and the thought behind it is what truly matters here!” he assures his pouting boyfriend, grinning up at the younger man. “Besides, who needs breakfast when they can have your kisses, Em?” he chuckles when they part again after another kiss, but he lets himself be pulled up from the bed without any protest, admiring the view he gets when Emre walks in front of him in all his naked glory, eager to prove his skills as a cook to the blond.

Their stomachs rumble approvingly at the prospect of being fed with something more nourishing than kisses, which is no wonder as they are two healthy young men and haven't eaten anything since the previous afternoon after all. Loris is astonished that he actually feels hungry for the first time in days, their passionate two rounds of lovemaking and Emre's unwavering love and faith in him having revived his spirits considerably.

He's far from being out of the woods at this point, and Loris is aware that it will take him a long time until he will feel okay again, but he's at least on the mend, and with Emre's help, he will be okay again one day.

He has Emre and their love for each other, and this is all Loris really needs.


End file.
